Fuzzy Memories of Bockfest's Past

Remember what happened last night? Good. Now tell the world.

Moderators: Artful Drunktective, mistah willies, NYDingbat, Judge, oettinger, Oggar, Badfellow, Mr Boozificator

Post Reply
Oggar
Chugging Like Churchill
Chugging Like Churchill
Posts: 5065
Joined: Mon May 19, 2003 3:43 pm
Location: Buffalo, MN
Contact:

Fuzzy Memories of Bockfest's Past

Post by Oggar »

It was a cold and miserable morning, even for Minnesota in early February. There had been an ice storm during the night and everything was covered in at least a half inch of ice maybe more it was hard to say. I had volunteered to drive my friends and I the 26 miles to Bockfest with the explicit understanding I wouldnot be driving us back. Due to the storm many businesses were shutting down for the day. We called the brewery to make sure our drinking plans were still on.

"Of course it's still on, we're Minnesotan's!" replies the brewer's wife.

Still there's a problem. Due to the diligent fashion in which the parking lot at my apartment complex was maintained, my car was iced in. It had been sitting in a rectangular "box" of hardened snow. It was sort of like having to drive over a curb to get into a parking spot. So now my car was incased in ice up to the rims. It was needless to say imobile. Luckily Roomie's car was in one of the few spots that sat on a slight slope so it had not been so thoroughly encased. Even though his car was smaller we managed to cram everyone in and set off. No maintainance had yet been done on the roads lanes were inperceptable but traffic was non exsistant so it all worked out nicely. Thirty miles an hour the entire way because at thirty two miles per hour the car started skidding sideways...

We finally arrive and are shocked to be the first people on scene. We arrive to tables full of beer and nary a soul in sight we eagerly hand over our drink tickets like giddy youngsters scrambling to get aboard rides at the carnival.

All the sting of the cold air melts away as we down pitchers and large mugs of Bock warmed by plunging red hot pokers into them. The smell of woodfires and beer is a pleasant one. As the day wears on the 20's of morning turn to the near blazing 40's in early afternoon. The Brewery ground have filled to near capacity. There is a certain magic in a town of 20,000 shutting down for a day to get drunk that I can't fully convey. The day comes to a close. We stagger down the hill toward the car uncertain who will drive as one of our number pauses to lauch a sizable quantity of beer and sauerkraut down the hillside with a strange streamer-like beauty. There is no ugliness in the world just then. We still have no idea who is driving. I get into the backseat and everything goes black. The car has stoped and my friends are waking me up.

"Are we home?" I ask blissfully. They laugh raukously.
"No! We drove across the street! We're at Perkins!"
I nod and we stumble toward the door and everything goes black again. Later I'm forking over eleven dollars and change for some reason. And we stumble back to the car. I come to in the front seat of the car many hours later and wander up the stairs to my apartment. As I open the drink cabinet the roomate sleeping in the livingroom chair comes to. I'm sure you can guess what happens next.
I can't write like Papa, you know I just ain't able
But if he came in here tonight, I'd drink him under the table -Ronny Elliott

RIP Mayhem, as long as I have a heart you are in it.

Post Reply